Stoneblessed II: The Lost Blessings of Valar
by tjlockwood
Summary: THE SEQUEL TO THE MUCH LOVED (well, not really,) STONEBLESSED IS OUT! Based five hundred years after the events of Stoneblessed, Ayisha is sick of acting proper, so leaves her home, to travel. But after a series of events, finds a secret of the gods that was meant to be long forgotten, and everything she knew about Stoneblessings is changed forever. (Rated M to be safe)
1. Prologue

_Once, in the first age, there was an elite group of individuals, men, dwarves, elves, even orcs who had abilities beyond what anyone had seen. Each individual ability corresponded with a __pétra génni̱si̱, or birthstone. Each stone meant a different ability:_

* * *

><p><em>January (<em>_Garnet)_

_The ability to hide from others, including those with magical abilities_

_February (__Amethyst)_

_Quick wits, and the ability to have the strength and speed of ten men_

_March (__Aquamarine)_

_The power to manipulate water and to remain submerged for long periods of time_

_April (__Diamond)_

_The gift of extremely good fortune and beauty, can, to a small extent, manipulate the weather_

_May (__Emerald)_

_The ability to see into the future or to other places through cryptic visions_

_June (__Pearl)_

_The ability to improve or impede the senses of others_

_July (__Ruby)_

_Can use any weapon, change what people see and use other stoneblessings_

_August (__Peridot)_

_The ability to heal, protect and influence others_

_September (__Sapphire)_

_The power to fly and the gift of speed, agility and stamina_

_October (__Opal)_

_The ability to change into and understand animals and people, and manipulate plants_

_November (__Topaz)_

_Able to use reflections to move to other places or even realms_

_December (__Tanzanite)_

_The ability to talk to the dead_

* * *

><p><em>Men believed stoneblessed were in fact vessels for their gods, the Lords and Queens of the Valar: <em>

_Lords of the Valar _

__Manwë____ Súlimo, King of the Valar __

__Ulmo____, King of the Sea __

__Oromë____ Aldaron, Lord of Forests, the Great Rider, and Hunter of Valinor __

__Námo____ (____Mandos____), Judge of the Dead __

__Irmo____ (____Lórien____), Lord and Master of Dreams, Visions, and Desires, and Creator of the Oloré Mallé, or Path of Dreams __

_Queens of the Valar _

__Varda____ Elentári, Queen of the Stars, spouse of Manwë __

__Yavanna____ Kementári (Palùrien), Giver of Fruits, spouse of Aulë __

__Nienna____, Lady of Mercy __

__Estë____ the Gentle, Lady of Healing and Rest, spouse of Irmo __

__Vairë____ the Weaver, spouse of Mandos __

__Vána____ the Ever-young, spouse of Orome __

_However, there were many who did not believe such things, as four of the lords and Queens did not make up part of the blessings; Morgoth, the Dark Power and most powerful of the Valar, __Nessa__ the Dancer, spouse of Tulkas, __Aulë__, the Smith and the Lord of Earth and all that's underneath and __Tulkas__ Astaldo, Champion of Valinor, the last of the Valar to come to Arda. Many speculated why they did not form part of the blessings, but the select few that were chosen to study the blessings found that there was a deeper, more intricate legend within that of the Stoneblessings, a long forgotten tale of betrayal and darkness._

_For many centuries, the select few, later known as The Chosen, had found what had transpired amongst the gods, but never had the chance to archive it, as a great and unnatural fire, black as pitch and cold as night swept through the great library from which they had stored a millennia of laborious scribing, removing almost all of the history of Middle-Earth and killing all those who had worked on nits contents, leaving what would've been the most recent edition, a thick , empty book with black binding, a quill and a small jar of ink on a small table, it's once grand surroundings now black rubble._


	2. Chapter One

I stroll throughout Greenwood, winding my way through the majestic cedars and mighty oaks. It had almost five centuries since I first arrived in Middle-Earth, prisoner to Azog the Defiler, but now we lived within the forest of Greenwood, with our children, Luca, who is now betrothed and to be married, and my young, headstrong daughter, Ayisha. My son is Peridot blessed, and works as a healer within the palace. We first discovered his blessing when he healed his royal cousin, the prince, after he had fallen from a tree and shattered his hand. My brother Legolas and I heard his wailing and rushed to his aid immediately, only to find Luca sitting there holding the other boy's hand while a pale green glow surrounded the pair and, in front of our eyes, the young prince jumps up and runs off laughing like nothing had ever happened. We were so proud of Luca that day, Azog had made it his task to train our son which, in turn, led to him gaining a spot as a healer. My gorgeous daughter, on the other hand, does not yet have any ability, but it took just as long for me to find mine, so she clings to hope. I sigh at the memories and look up through the trees; it was time for me to head back. I turn around and head for the palace, ruminating. Ayisha was born on what, in my old home, call a leap year, on the twenty-ninth day of the second month, a day few were born on, so, she may have no gift at all, as from what I have read, of all the elves, dwarves, men and what have you with blessings, none have been born on that particular day.

I reach the palace and adjust the circlet on my head, my fingers brushing the intricate designs and the opal in the middle. I walk through the back of the castle gardens only to find none other than Ayisha, with her long, auburn hair tied back firing arrows and throwing daggers at targets, in a small clearing. I stop behind a tree and watch; she is easily as good as the prince, but far better than her brother, who had never quite gotten the hang of it. She moves to collect her weapons and then draws twins-swords, the same as my own, to make the most of her agility and stamina. A watch as she practices striking, blocking and feinting, with complex footwork to top it off. Many she-elves, royalty especially, were confined to a life of needlework, sewing and other such tasks, leaving fighting to the soldiers and other men. _I did not realize she had been teaching herself, _I think as she stows her weapons in various tree hollows and the dummies in old logs and carefully hidden dug-outs. She then neatens her hair and pulls a pale gold dress out of a knapsack, before pulling it over her sleeveless shirt and legging-like pants. I keep still as she makes her way to the palace, going on a game trail you would not notice unless you already knew it was there. I keep still and count to twenty, leaving a delay so she would not hear me, I did not wish for her to know I had watched her. I feel myself glow with pride; I should have guessed she would learn one way or another.

I reach my home and make my way straight to ada's study, which may now belong to the king, Legolas, was more often inhabited by my ada, so was still his in all but name. I open the door to find Ayisha, sitting at the desk, scribbling frantically. "What are you up to Ayisha?" I ask, acting like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Nothing Amil," she replies, "just writing. Ada says that the more I can write, the better off I will be." She had that much right. All elves, even those who live out of the palace could read and write, but all elves, even I, thirsted for knowledge. "Well, we best make our way to the dining room, lest we be late, I say, breaking the growing silence.

"Of course Amil, let's go," she says, folding the papers and tucking them away. We head out of the study and towards the dining room.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

I walk through the winding halls of Greenwood with my Amil. We had a really good relationship, I was so much closer with her than even Luca, and we were twins. The only problem though, is that everyone is so intent on making me a little lady, making certain I can sew and make polite conversation, not life skills like fighting. I had read about medicines and plants in one of the thousands of books in the great library within the walls of the palace, but I, like most she-elves my age, I had a secret. But while most were crushes, mine was something my Amil would be horrified of. I had, for the past three months, been teaching myself to fight. For years I had watched the males train, and for years I had been denied the opportunity to. My mothers had told me of a tale from her childhood, and trust me; I knew her childhood better than my own. I heard the songs, and things she had told me herself. In the tale, a young protagonist had left her life in search of a new one, and leaving seemed to be the cure-all for me right now. I had been preparing for as long as I had been fighting, and I would leave as soon as I could.

We arrive in the hall and I take my seat beside my grandfather. We eat in silence. Not an awkward or tense silence, but a comfortable one. I try not to wolf down my food, I had everything ready to go, and all I have left to do is leave. I sit there, restless as the others seem to take even longer. I hear Amil and Ada talking, but I ignore what they say. There conversations were oft dull and boring, about trivial matters or that of the realm. They all sit there, while I feel the need to leave growing inside me. I can't take it, so I clear my throat, "May I be excused?"

The table goes silent. "Of course," my uncle, the king, says. I stand up and bow stiffly, before making my way out of the room. I push through the doors and keep a calm composure as I head to my chambers. _I need to leave. Tonight, _I think as I make my way into the room, closing the door behind me. I strip off the dress to reveal the top and shorts I wore while training. I peel off the tight-fitting shirt and opt for a dark, green and brown mottled tunic that fit loosely but would keep me warm. I replace the leggings with dark brown trousers that would allow me to move freely. I grab a mottled cloak off a hook and secure it around my shoulders. I have already stashed with my other things in the forest. I lock the door and place what I was writing in the study on my bed, figuring someone would find it.

I step out onto the balcony and leap to a nearby tree, a tall cedar. I land on a limb and take a moment to regain my balance. Night had long since fallen, and the stars gleam like tears. I shake off the thought and climb down the tree, an easy feat, and put the hood over my head before making my way to where I kept my weapons; in the isolated clearing I always trained in. the trip there only ever takes a few minutes, but when you're trying to get away from your life, it seems to take a lot longer. I finally reach the clearing. I walk over to the nearest hollow and pull out my twin swords, the blades bright silver and the handles ebony wood. I strap them and the sheathes they belong in on and walk over to a hollow log across the clearing, where I pull out a bow, also made of ebony wood and a quiver, filled with arrows. I finally pick up the rucksack and put that on too. I was ready to leave.


	3. Chapter Two

**Ayisha POV**

I look about as I leave the palace gardens and enter Greenwood. I had studied the area for a while and I knew the plant life. The trees sway, groaning quietly and the leaves rub against one another, creating a depressing melody, but it covered the sounds of me walking all the same. _I have to get out of the forest by morning, _I think. I let out a low whistle and hear the sound of Arcus padding towards me. I stroke his muzzle, hearing him chuff quietly. I mount him, "Head south," I whisper, and he does exactly that.

We reach the edge of the forest, and the land beyond was plains, with a few rocks and even fewer trees, a strange contrast to the forest. My companion no longer looked as noble, instead, seemed like a Warg, a creature ridden by Orcs. I am shocked, sure my mother had told me it would probably happen, but I did not expect it. I had always asked why we never left the forest on the Wargs, but it was always the same thing, _they would look like savage Wargs, not the wolves they are. _I sigh. "Where to now?" I think aloud. Arcus whines, almost like he is deep in thought, before turning east, heading off over the plains.

* * *

><p><strong>Luca POV<strong>

I heard Amil wailing while I was placing herbs into a poultice for a young elf that had fallen and cut open his knee. It was not serious but had become infected. I was putting it on him when a guard came rushing in and dragged me out of the room.

I walk alongside the guard as I am led through the palace. We stop outside my sister's door, where he left me to go about other duties. I open the door to find my Amil sitting on the bed, a small piece of paper clutched in her hands. "Amil?" she just shakes her head. "She's gone," I hear her mumble over and over, like a mantra.

"What do you mean? Ayisha?" I say quietly, sinking onto the bed. All she does is nod, "Gone"

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

We move slowly, trying not to draw attention to ourselves. It had been a good few hours since we left Greenwood and I know by now that they would have found the note. _Ada would be mad, but Amil, she would be broken, _I think guiltily, knowing it is true. We continue to move east, as I let Arcus lead the way. We walk parallel to the trees, to keep our bearing, we begin to move north-east, and I lose myself in my thoughts. I try to think of where I want to go, and I come up with many ideas; Laketown, Erebor, Hobbiton and so many more. I want to see the world, not stay in a forest or a palace my entire life. I feel Arcus keeping up his gait. I look around, taking in my surroundings; it is quiet, with no animals anywhere. I pull out one of my swords, feeling the familiar grip. I feel Arcus rumble beneath me as he stops. I pull my hood up so it overs my face, if there was someone out there, I had no wish to let them see my face. I look out and see a lone Warg rider cresting the slope, about two-hundred metres away, I wouldn't be able to outrun them, but I couldn't just sit here while they killed me. _I am not some weak she-elf, _I think, before pulling out my other sword. I watch with bated breath as the orc gets closer. I can see him drawing a mangled sword. His Warg is brown, like the colour of sandy soil. Arcus' head pricks up as he smells the other Warg. The rider and Warg come within striking distance and I lash out, drawing blood over his eyes. He lets out a shriek and blindly lunges, trying to land a hit. I hit out again, this time getting his Warg. He swings and slashes my arm, creating a shallow gash. It's my right arm, not my sword arm, so I put one sword away, trying to avoid another hit. I whirl Arcus around, only to find him heading back over the hill.

I dismount and move behind a nearby rock, clutching my arm. I pull a cloth out of the knapsack, I had thought ahead. I clean he wound only to find it was minor and didn't need bandaging. I put the cloth away, wincing slightly. It would hurt, for sure, but there was nothing I could do.

* * *

><p><strong>Third Person POV<strong>

The orc had turned to report back as soon as the stranger atop the coloured Warg had turned. He was dangerous. The orc wipes blood from his eyes, a dirty trick; maybe this being was an orc. _No, _the orcs thinks, _there are no patchy Wargs that he knew of. _He reaches the top of the hill and blows a horn, signaling his return. A group of about thirty orcs are packing up camp, with their leader looking at a series of charts. "What did you see?" he asks in the rough black speech of the orcs.

"There was," the orc began, "I lone rider, atop a patchwork Warg. I couldn't see his face."

The leader looks at the scout, then looks at the hill, "confront this 'rider'. Do not kill him, capture him. I want to know how this scum got a Warg." He looks at the camp. "GO!" he yells.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

I stand up and prepare to continue on my way. I do not remount Arcus, instead walking beside him. We move south-west, the opposite direction the orc scout went. With me walking, we take longer to cover ground, but Arcus carrying me would make him tire quicker. I know that, if need be, I could mount up and we would lose them.

We trudge along, one foot in front of the other. "I wish I could understand you, like Amil. At least then we wouldn't be in silence," I sigh. The Warg seems to nod in agreement. We walk for some time, in a comfortable silence, and before long I lose sight of Greenwood. _Are they worried? _I think, _probably. _I stroke the patchwork side of my companion. His side was still soft, but nowhere near as much as it was a day ago. I look around, I had no map, but the plan was to just walk around, go wherever, and earn my way as I went. We reach a small stream, where we gratefully drink and stop to rest. I sit on a rock and pull out a piece of lembas bread. I eat it sparingly, preserving my supplies. Although one piece would keep me going for three or four days, I only had half a dozen pieces. I look up to find Arcus missing. I dismiss it, _just hunting. _I pull out my swords and try to stretch my arm. The hood falls off my face, allowing my rust coloured hair to flow around me. In the palace, I refused to braid my hair, and ended up winning, only putting it up to train. My hair goes down to about my navel and was rather thick, whereas my brother's went just below his shoulders and was thinner, like all elves. I brush a lock behind my ear as I continue running through drills and such. I feel the tension leave my arm and I sigh inwardly with relief. I whistle, calling for Arcus, and I hear him howl in mild distress in response. This meant he couldn't get to me. Something was seriously wrong.


	4. Chapter Three

**Ayisha POV**

I gather my few possessions and pull the hood up over my head, covering my hair. I couldn't give my identity away to any potential enemies. I pull my bow and string an arrow, ready to release it at any time. I look around as I stealthily move from rock to rock, making my way closer to Arcus. His howling continues, although jagged, as though he is struck. _If anyone is hurting him… _I climb a hill and look over, dreading the possibilities. What I see scares me. There are at least thirty orcs, each with a Warg, but all surrounding my patchwork Warg, some with ropes around his neck, stopping him from getting away. He continues to howl and snap at the ropes in vain. I look around and I see a larger orc. He is atop a rust-coloured Warg, covered in armor that was beginning to rust. I look at his face; there is next to no mutilation on his face, but as I look closer, I see his left eye is clouded over, he is partially blind. I aim at him, hoping to scatter the rest. I draw the arrow and let it fly, but another orc moves at the last minute, causing the arrow to land in its side. I hear the orc shriek and watch in morbid amusement as it falls from the saddle and writhes on the ground. My joy however, is short-lived as the leader dismounts and pulls the arrow from the now dead orcs side.

I crouch down, hoping to avoid observation and I see the leader stand and shout something in Black Speech, pointing at me.

* * *

><p><strong>Third Person POV<strong>

_Thunk! _The orc scout is hit by a single arrow. The leader watches passively as the scout falls from his Warg. He sighs and steps down to see who had done the killing. He moves to the corpse and pulls out the arrow. It is made of ebony wood, with a fire hardened tip. The design was neither man nor elf nor orc, but a mix of all. The fletching was that of a mallard duck, with the familiar metallic colours of pink, blue and green flashing in the light. The orc looks up to the hill where the arrow came from, and notices a figure donning a long dark cape crouch, as though trying to avoid notice. "Get him!" he barks at the orcs, pointing up the hill.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

I watch as half the orcs leave the circle around Arcus and rush up the hill to me. I draw another arrow and fire it at the orc leading the charge. I hit him in the chest and watch him slip dead from the running Warg. I manage to get another three arrows loose before I am surrounded, arrows and swords pointed at me. I place the arrow I was about to release back in the quiver and put the bow over my back, even I knew when the odds were too against me. I stand there, waiting for death, looking every orc dead in the eye, although they couldn't see my own.

They do not fire, they simply sit there, waiting, watching. All I here is the sound of the Wargs breathing, even Arcus has gone silent. I hear padding and shuffling. My had snaps over to the source of the noise, to find the orcs and Wargs moving aside as the leader I was aiming for come through the crowd, leading a somewhat sorrowful Arcus behind him. I give a low whistle, making Arcus' head shoot up and the other Wargs grow restless. He says something to me in Black Speech, but I simply shake my head, unable to comprehend what he is trying to say.

* * *

><p><strong>Third Person POV<strong>

The leader looks down from atop his Warg. "How did you get a Warg?" he asks calmly. The cloaked figure does not respond he simply shakes his head. _He does not understand, _the Orc realizes. It had been a while since he had needed to converse in the common tongue. "How did you get a Warg?" he asks again.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

"How did you get a Warg?" the leader asks, this time in common speech. I am slightly taken aback, the leaders voice. It is calm and almost comforting, not like his voice when he uses Black Speech, which gives it a harsh, gruff edge. "How did you get a Warg?" he asks again, sharper this time.

"I – I…" I start, trying to make my voice more than a whisper, "I have had him since the day I was born. My parents both had one, as did my brother." _Shit, shit, shit! _I think, _he must know by now I am little more than an adolescent. _I look up at him, as he sits there in silence, looking right through me, making me feel invisible. "A lie. Only orcs have Wargs," he says.

"No it's true, I swear it!" I say. He dismounts his rust-coloured Warg and walks towards me. I hold my ground and stand up straight, hoping to seem less the flimsy girl and more courageous. He stops less than a metre away from me, and I only then do I realize how tall he is. He is at least seven foot tall and dwarfs my five-foot eleven. He stares me down, as I look up at him. I gulp.

* * *

><p><strong>Third Person POV<strong>

The hooded figure gulps. They did not sound as manly, nor look it at this distance. "Put out your arms," the orc leader says, leaving no room for debate. The figure complies, putting their arms in front of them. The orc reverts to Black Speech, "Rope!" he barks. Another orc brings a short rope and places it in the leader's outstretched hand. The orc ties the figure's hands together tightly, glancing at his face to see him looking down. After a brief moment, he smirks, before pulling them towards 'his' Warg.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

The orc ties my hands together, although not as tightly as I expected. I stand there, watching his hands weave together the two ends of the rope in a complex knot. He stops and I stand there, looking at the ground, before the orc pulls me none too gently towards Arcus. As I get closer, my Warg's ears prick up and he sends a low hum of reassurance my way. The orc looks over at me, then back at the Warg, pushing me forwards. "Get on," he says bluntly, getting up onto his own. I mount Arcus, sighing slightly. I had left the riding tack in Greenwood, thinking it would take longer for my family to realize I was gone. _Boy do I regret that now, _I think, as the Orc leader puts the group into motion, heading north, back the way they were going, as if capturing me was all a part of the plan.


	5. Chapter Four

We stay on the move until after the sun sets. I simply stare at the back of the orc's head, unable to do much else. I stroke Arcus' pelt for my own comfort as much as his. As we stop I look around. We are on the outskirts of a forest. _Greenwood? _I watch as my captor alights his mount, ordering orcs to do things to prepare for the night ahead. I assume it is about tents, watches and the like as he speaks in harsh words. He turns to me. "Dismount and follow me, leave the Warg"

I get off and stretch my limbs as best I can. I see the orc look at me and I move to follow him. I watch him shake his head. I do not talk, only glare at him from underneath the cowl of my hood. He doesn't even flinch; he simply turns and walks a little deeper into the trees, not looking back. _He expects me to follow, like a good jailbird; _I think and make my way towards the trees. I feel emotions bubbling as I step into what is technically my home. The trees on the edge look nothing like the ones nearest the palace, but sick and twisted. I am so busy looking around I nearly bump into the orc who brought me here. He looks down at me for a moment, doing nothing, but then he moves his hands and unties my wrists. He drops the rope and the ground, a silent, trusting gesture. I look at the rope, unsure of what to do. "Who are you?" he asks, not harshly but not nicely either. I shake my head, too afraid to speak. "I will ask once more. Who. Are. You," he says, closing what little space there was between us. I stay silent, which angers him. He reaches up and wrenches the hood back, revealing my face as my hair tumbles out. "Elf shit, and female at that" he hisses, "how did you get a Warg?"

"Well, which do you want to know; who am I? _Or, _how did I get a Warg?" I say, figuring if he wants to know, he won't kill me. I watch as a small smirk crosses his face.

"You are brave, for a she-elf. Who are you?" he asks, never breaking eye-contact.

"I am Ayisha Tuortinu, of the Greenwood elves, fourth in line for the throne. Who are you?" I say, trying to gauge if I had too much or too little. I try to work out what he is thinking, but his face is blank.

"You are of royal blood, what is that to me?" he queries.

"Something or nothing. Now, who are you?" I repeat.

"I could kill you yet you ask _me _questions?" he sighs, "I am Bolg, of Dol Duldur" I heard stories of him. Raised like a son by my father, but was more ruthless and cruel.

"You were like a son by the Pale Orc," I say quietly.

"Yes. How would elf scum like you know such things?"

"I read a lot," I say, giving nothing away. _And he is my father…_

"Now, the Warg," he says, back to the point, any kindness gone from his voice.

"I already told you, we have been bonded since I was born"

"Liar!" he spits, "TELL THE TRUTH!"

I roll my eyes, trying not to seem afraid, "that. Is. The truth."

I see him raise his hand, and brace myself for the hit. The pain is worse than anything. I feel it explode behind my eyes and I see stars. My cheek stings as I clasp it. Tears prick at my eyes as he bends down, picks up the rope, and binds my wrists again, this time being rough and pulling them tighter than before. I wince as the rope is knotted. He pulls up my hood to cover my features again before lugging me out of the trees to the camp. I can tell by the way he walks, I have not given the correct answer, but it was true, so all I can do is wait it out, and hope he doesn't kill me of course.

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

I drag the she-elf behind me. She is still my prisoner, but a male, I could've tied up in any spot and all they would suffer is beatings, but a female, she would be raped for sure. _What to do, what to do? _ If I treated her as a male, keeping her in the open and someone were to find out… _No, she must stay close. She can stay within my tent, 'her' Warg with mine, _I decide, changing direction and moving towards I was to stay the night. "Get me clean cloth," I order another orc in Black Speech, he is the scout from earlier. The fact he was beaten by a she-elf irks me, "and fresh water as well" I watch as he scurries off to get it all. I open the tent, which is more than large enough to hold us both. I drag her inside with me, and close the tent flap once she is inside. I sigh, _what now? _"Keep the hood up. I have an orc getting supplies; your face will not be seen. Understood?" the she-elf shifts her weight, she is scared and nervous. The thought causes me to sneer; _she is still young, and weak. _"I asked you a question," I say, harsher than what was necessary, but it would get the message across; I wasn't one to trifle with. "Yes," I hear her mumble, barely audible.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

The orc, Bolg, scared me more than the scout, or even the ring of orcs and Wargs on the plain. They all listened to him and him alone. "Yes," I mumble. The flap opens and I pull the cowl up over my head further in paranoia. The scout from earlier scurries in, holding a wad of cloth and a bowl of water, not even sparing a moment to look around. He places it on a makeshift table and sends a look my way. I look down, so not to do anything I regret. I keep my eyes trained on the ground until I hear the tent flap move again. I glance up and take in my surroundings. The tent is relatively large, with next to nothing inside, so it could be removed without hassle. There was a desk made of cedar wood, covered with papers. I am so engrossed with looking around I flinch when the orc in front of me clears his throat. "Remove your hood," he says quietly, like he is talking to a child. I comply, having felt his anger before. I tentatively touch my cheek, it is swollen, and my fingertips come away sticky. _Blood. _My captor soaks the cloth in the waterbeside him. I try not to wince or whimper as he cleans my face, dabbing gently where there is blood. "Why are you doing this?" I ask. No answer, the orc simply continues to clean my cheek, the cool water soothing the pain. "Why am I in your tent, I am a prisoner, no?" I try again.

"You are my prisoner, but that doesn't mean I should tie you up out there to be raped. Even orcs have consciences," he says, although he says it somewhat reluctantly, "why do you ask so many questions?"

"My ada always told me to ask questions," I say. It was true, my ada always did, as did my amil, but I couldn't bear to think of them. I feel tears prick my vision.

"You ran, didn't you?" he says, "From Greenwood" I nod, sobbing quietly. He must think of me as pathetic.

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

_She's crying?_ I think, _why? _I put the cloth down, her face was cleaner now, the trickle of blood gone. Her right cheek is swollen slightly and is starting to bruise, it was wrong of me to hit her, I just need the truth. I place the cloth in the bowl and place it outside the tent, someone would pick it up. "Do not cry she-elf. There is no need. I lost my father figure when I was only an imp," I say, instantly regretting it. She stops crying, and looks up, her elfish features still chiseled with sorrow. "How?" She asks quietly.

"Many say he was killed on the way to a meeting of elders, but it's not true, the elves killed him," I say, hissing the last part.

"No, we did not kill him," I hear her say.

"But how can you so certain"

She goes quiet. _She knows something!_ I think. "Tell me" the elf shakes her head.

"TELL ME!" I thunder.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

"I can't, I can't, I can't, can't…" I mutter, trembling. If I told him, he would either be furious, and hit me, or happy, an emotion I could not see on him. I look up, he did not _look _angry.

"Why not she-elf? I could toss you outside and leave you to be beaten and raped," he says, somewhat innocently.

"I can't tell you. If I did, I would risk the death of my ada" technically I am truthful, his life would be at risk. He picks me up by the shoulders and I am suddenly a foot off the ground, looking into his eyes. "Tell. Me," he says, through gritted teeth.

"Okay. But please, tell no-one," I plead. He nods, "the Pale Orc is my ada."

I am placed back on the ground, and watch my captors face. I can't describe the emotions, anger, sadness, joy. "The Pale Orc, alive?"

I nod, "He was an elf under a curse since infancy, and my amil broke it, before I was born. I am sorry," I say, sitting on the ground, exhausted.

I watch with surprise as the orc sits beside me, on the ground, "for half a millennia I thought he was dead, but now, alive, bonded, with imps, well elflings…" he trails off, "Pull up your hood, someone is coming."

I do as he says, and I stand up he does, moving to the back corner, furthest from the entrance. An orc comes in, looking over at me and then at my captor.

He talks rapidly in Black Speech. I see him gesticulate wildly then point to a spot on a map. My captor replies and sends the orc on his way. He turns to me, "follow me. Stay silent, no questions. Understood?"

"Yes," I reply, pulling up my hood as I do so. My hands are still bound, but I follow him out of the tent, staying as close as I can without drawing attention to myself. He whistles, and our Wargs come bounding up. He gets onto his and I do the same. I notice that Arcus is tied to the rust-coloured Warg. I sigh, _I am still his captive. _


	6. Chapter Five

**Ayisha POV**

I look around properly for the first time; the other orcs are packing everything up as quickly as they can, like there is something after them. I look back around to see my captor talking to an orc, watching as the orc points at me. The orc's leader sends the orc away before turning to me, "We must go. They believe you are the cause," the orc says, pulling Arcus in line with his, "We will meet up with the rest of the orcs at Dol Guldur. He kicks his Warg into motion and I feel Arcus' gait as we move south, away from the rest.

* * *

><p><strong>Luca POV<strong>

We had finally reached Ayisha, only to find her a prisoner amongst orcs. I left Tonitru at the palace; I had not ridden the black Warg since I first became a healer. "Taren Aikanáro, my selen," I say, riding on a grey mare, "have we found her, have we found my seler?" _(Prince Aikanáro, my cousin, have we found her, have we found my sister?)_

"Amin believe lye have," he replies, his one purple eye scanning the scene before us. _(I believe we have)._ There is a small encampment of orcs, with a larger tent on the side furthest from us. I watch as a tall orc appears, behind him, a slim, hooded figure. They move through the camp to two Wargs. The light stops me from distinguishing the colour of their pelts. _One could be Arcus, _I think.

I watch my cousin draw his sword. "Ten i mahalma! Ten Ayisha!" he cries, thundering down the hill, the search party on his heels. _(For the throne! For Ayisha!) _

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

I hear a faint cry in Elfish and I look north, to see a party of elves charging down the hillside. My captor sees it too, and urges our mounts faster, hoping to outrun them. We dodge and weave around rocks, horses may be faster, but they tire easily whereas Warg can lope for hours on end. I hear the first clash of swords, the orcs had the elves outnumbered three to one. I hear horses screaming but I am too afraid to look around, lest I see someone I know go to Valar. I hear a shout, "Ayisha!" I turn around, and see my brother racing towards us, "I will find you!"

"NO! You cannot!" I yell, "Leave!" I watch as he stops in his tracks, his face etched in such a sorrow, I start to cry. He turns around, and heads back to the camp, where the orcs had left and the elves are regrouping. The tears stream down my face silently as I turn back around, to find my captor no longer in front of me, but next to me. "Why did you say that, she-elf?"

"He is my brother, I do not wish for him to die," I say, looking down. I go to wipe my eyes, but I have no wish for him to know I am crying again, so I simply keep my hands down and let the tears run down my face.

"You cry once more, you are a strange elf," I hear him mutter, "but you are young, younger than me, so you will learn."

"Please, Bolg, where are we going?" I ask, wiping my eyes, giving in to the temptation. His Warg stops, Arcus stopping a moment later. He dismounts his Rust-coloured mount and pulls me off my own. "You know where we are going," he snaps, taking my weapons away, one at a time.

"No, we are going south, Dol Guldur was nor' west of the camp," I reply as my Bow and arrows are taken first.

"You are too smart for your own good, elf," he observes, taking my swords.

"You better look after my weapons, it wasn't easy stealing them," I comment. It was true; I did steal them, daggers and all. I had to sneak into the weaponry, past a dozen of Greenwood's best guards and through locked doors to get the knives, bow, arrows and twin swords. They were a set, all with ebony wood, so I took them, covered in dust, out to the forest where I taught myself. I read about the tactics of men, elves, dwarves, even orcs, and devised my own style to combat anyone. I stop reminiscing to find my captor looking down at me, a queer look donning his face. "What are you doing?" he asks.

"Nothing"

"Right…" he drawls, "And I'm not partially blind" he puts the weapons he had collected in an oilskin and attaches it to his saddle. "Wait," I say. I pull out another few hidden daggers and pass them to him. "If you're going to confiscate them, may as well do it properly," I say as he takes the daggers and adds them to my other weapons. "You are confusing. You follow me, alone, into a forest, and then into my tent, allow me to clean a wound I inflicted and now," he sighs, shaking his head, "you _give _me your weapons. Why?"

This question leaves me confused, but I answer as best I can. "You were angry, and, well, you are the only orc between me and rape," I admit, "that and I've always wanted to travel, now I get to do so without paying for meals or a roof over my head" I hear him chuckle as he remounts his Warg. I do the same, moving Arcus up next to him. "What's her name?" I ask, hoping I do not sound like a complete idiot.

"She is Gingiberi," he says.

"A beautiful name. This is Arcus," I reply.

"Rainbow?" How fitting, I have never seen a Warg like him"

"His brothers and sisters are black or brown, his mother white and his father black," I tell him as we walk south.

We walk for some time in silence, only the wind and the padding of our Wargs fill the silence. I hear faint shouts in Elfish; _they think they will catch up. _I feel the Wargs move faster, panting slightly. "They cannot reach us. Their mounts will tire," Bolg says to me, although he pulls out a sword, which makes me question his statement.

"Would you kill them? The elves?"

"If it came to it," he replies, somewhat vague.

"On what grounds?"

"Do you ever shut up?" he half-moans.

"No," I reply smiling.

"Fine then, if they were to attack us or try and take you,"

"Why me?" I ask, curiosity overruling any common sense, "I am only an elf"

He doesn't respond, and for a moment, I don't think he is, "you are my prisoner. You go when and if I give you leave to do so." I lapse into a shocked silence. I figured that would be his answer, but I was not completely prepared for the gravity of the situation I found myself in. I look up at the sky, the stars glittering. _I have never seen so many. Ada's ada would love this,_ I think, sighing.


	7. Chapter Six

**Ayisha POV**

We continue south and steadily, the cries of the elves behind us fade until they are no longer there. I cannot help but be joyful, my brother is safe, out of harm's way, but at the same time, I feel a deep sorrow and a fear that he may follow us. _There must be some way to lose them for good, for Luca's sake._ I feel myself drifting off and as much as I try to fight the wave of drowsiness, I lurch into a much needed sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

We continue to walk, the elf behind me unusually quiet. She had been pestering me with questions for the whole time she has been my prisoner. _I see some of myself in her, _I think, _but she is more like her father than anything. _I turn around in the saddle to see her slouched over, asleep. I chuckle, any other being would do anything to avoid sleep, but not her, it seems. I ponder over what to do. I could easily kill her, but, she is of royal blood, I would most probably fetch a good price for her, whether in ransom or as a cocotte, there are, after all, many who would pay good money for such a rare prize. _Or, _I think, _keep her for myself… _no, I know I couldn't, she is the child of the Defiler; it would be like a cruel jest to sell and use her body in such a way. If I were to keep her, on the other hand, as a slave, she would never be maimed unless by my own hand. There are plenty of other slaves in Mordor, mainly men, but Halflings, so surely an elf would be like a gem amongst stones. I look east, the sun is starting to rise, which means we are only a few days from being safe to turn around and continue to Dol Guldur, if I find it necessary. I turn to find the elf, Ayisha, awake once more, looking around at the new surroundings. "How long was I asleep?" she asks with, stifling a yawn.

"A few hours," I reply, the thought of keeping her or ransoming her still fresh in my mind. I hear a quiet 'oh' from the elf and I pull back, level with her.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

As my captor becomes level with me. _What did he want? _"We will continue south, and reach our destination in a few days' time," he says.

"Why tell me?" I reply, "You won't tell me where we are going but you will tell me how long until we get there?"

I hear him huff. "I could not tell you anything. I could gag you, beat you, starve you and enslave you. I could sell your body to creatures so foul even I shudder at what they would do to you," he says, voice icy cold, "or I could keep you for myself and maim you, turn you into an orc. Would you prefer that?"

"I…" I trail off, not sure what to say, simply hanging my head in shame. He was kind, and I acted like I was above him, I should've known better. He goes to move and, for reasons I cannot understand, I grab his arm with my bound hands. He is shocked at my spontaneous act, he looks at me. "I am sorry. I should appreciate your kindness. I have been naïve"

He pulls his Warg to a sudden halt, Arcus doing the same. _What have I done? _I think. We both sit there in silence for a moment, unsure of what to do. I pull off my hood and look him in the eyes, "really, I am"

"You are forgiven, naïveté and ignorance comes and goes with youth," he says. I did not expect such wisdom philosophy to come from an orc, but it would seem there is more to learn about him and his kind than I thought. "We will stop for an hour, no more, less if we can. Do not try to run. If you do, I will have no choice but to punish you," he says, dismounting his Warg. _Gingiberi, _I remind myself. I copy him, stretching my arms. I wince slightly as I do so, the wound on my arm paining me. I stop and pull up my sleeve, revealing the shallow cut. The skin around it is inflamed, and it is weeping pus. _Infection. _I sit on the ground and pull out the cloth, wiping the wound gently, hissing in pain. I hear footsteps. "How did you receive such a wound?" it is the orc. His voice makes me jump.

"t-the scout, h-h-he slashed my a-arm. I th-thought I had cleaned it," I stammer out, my captor towering over me.

"Give me the cloth," he states, pulling a flask from his belt. I watch as he soaks the cloth in a liquid. He puts the flask away. "This will hurt"

I do not understand what he means until the soaked cloth touches my arm. I scream in agony and try to pull away. The orc grabs me and holds me there, cleaning the wound as gently as he can. "lle 'ksh onna!" I howl in elfish. _(You evil creature!) _I do not mean what I say, nor can he understand me, but the pain is immense. I continue to ell and insult him in elfish, until he pulls the cloth away. I am trembling, the stinging pain slowly fading. "I apologize, she-elf. It was the only way to stop the infection spreading," the orc beside me says, sitting down beside me, rolling my sleeve back down.

"You have no need," I reply, "I am grateful for your help." I blush slightly, regretting he insults I had hurled at him moments before.

"What were you yelling before?"

"It was Elfish," I say, trying to be vague. I did not wish to anger him by telling him what I said. I watch him shake his head, "what did you say?"

"Mainly curses and insults. I do apologize," I begin, "The pain –" the sound of his laughter cuts you off.

"You _are_ peculiar," he chortles, "you apologize for cursing at me for bringing you pain. I don't understand why you do such things" I am left without a reply. What he says is true enough, others would have put up more of a fight, but I bore this orc no ill will, why should I? He did not starve or beat me, I think we have a mutual respect, not liking nor disliking one another.

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

"I suppose you are right," she sighs, pulling the hood off her head, causing tresses of hair to flow around her, hiding her features. I take a swig out of my flask, the orc-made alcohol burning my throat. I offer it to her, getting a small shake of the head as a response. I shrug, and stand back up, moving around. _What to do? I could release her, but then what, I would be called craven, weak, _I ponder, pacing, _she must stay. _

* * *

><p><em>Author's note:<em>

_Okay, a bit of a filler chapter, but hey, its another chapter. If you have any thoughts or ideas about where you want the story to go, just post it as a review or inbox me._

_~tjlockwood_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Ayisha POV**

"We should go," I hear the orc say. I stand up and follow him, pulling my hood back up. I hear the Wargs approaching. We start on our way once again, moving south. I look around; there are no trees, only rocks and grass. If Luca was still following us, we would spot him and the rest of them long before they are close to us.

* * *

><p><strong>Third Person POV<strong>

At a fleeting glance, the strange pair would look like a broad man and lanky boy or a devoted wife on the backs of two stout mules. But if one were to look closely, they would notice the ropes binding the smaller figures hands together, and the mounts are not mules, but Wargs. The two make their way across the barren plains, unaware of the gaze upon them.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

"Is there some way we could lose my kin?" I ask after an hour of non-stop travelling. I look over at him, my gaze not faltering.

"There is," he says after a moment of thought, "a few ways actually. The first would be to use a stoneblessing, but all the Stoneblessed are dead" I go to talk, but decide against it, allowing him to continue. "another would be to leave a red herring, throw them off by making them think we are going elsewhere, but we would need to lay a false trail, backtrack, all too complicated, especially with a captive," I nod in understanding, "the other thing would be to go where they would not dare"

"Where?"

"Dol Guldur, Isengard or, if all else fails, Mordor, possibly Goblin City" he finishes, huffing quietly. I do not talk, instead looking over at him. _Mordor?! Why of all places Mordor!_ "We would not be followed?" I ask, not believing that I was actually considering the option.

"No, all four places are too well guarded," he replies, a little taken aback at my response. I try to remember where they are located, Dol Guldur being closest to Greenwood, practically in it, then the Goblin City, Isegard and furthest from my former home, Mordor. I urge Arcus forward a little, to be in beside the orc. "We go where they will not follow, wherever it is, I will go, and go willingly," I say, offering a hand as best as I can for a handshake. He glances down at my hands and then at my face, before pulling out a dagger. At first I think the worst, but I try to remain calm. He brings the knife down and severs the rope binding my hands. I drop one but hold up my right. I see a small grin light up his face as he takes my slender hand in his broad one. "Deal, but you try anything, I will not hesitate to bind, gag and treat you like I would a slave," he warns, but not as sinister as he could be.

"Understood," I say, a Cheshire grin covering my own, "Does this mean I can have my weapons back?"

"No," he replies, "I do not trust you, yet"

"Don't worry, I don't trust me either," I agree. _He is too cunning; I would have no hope of escape. Besides, he would probably know my plan before I did. _I chuckle at the thought, but when my captor looks at me, I only laugh more, shaking my head slightly as I try to regain control of myself. He chuffs and turns around, pushing us south-east, which left us with only one option.

"Mordor," I whisper, too quiet too be heard.

We travel until the sun starts to set. The wind was biting, and storm clouds are rolling in from the east, the distant sounds of thunder reaching us. I had never liked storms, ever since I was little and there had been the fire in the garden outside of my chambers. I tried to warn someone, but no one took notice, and it soon spread into my chambers, reducing them to naught but ashes. When they found me, I was in a corner, burns all up my right arm. They took me to the healers and I was completely healed within a month, with only a faint scar remaining. Even to this day, I was always uneasy when a storm passed over home, I always had to do something to keep my mind off it, often brushing Arcus or reading. When we actually stop, I dismount and try to busy myself, without success. I try to help my captor but all he does is set out a bedroll and gathers a few sticks for a small fire. We have stopped under an overhanging crag, to provide shelter from the oncoming storm.

We both sit by the fire, him eating dried meat, myself eating a piece of Lembas. I sit near him, to keep a little warmer, our backs against the rock. I hear thunder and shiver, pulling the cloak closer around me. "Afraid?" my captor asks.

"No"

"Lair," he says, although not mockingly or leeringly, "I can almost smell it"

"Well why ask?" I say, before moving closer to him, only a few inches away now. I finish the Lembas and yawn; I am more tired than I originally thought. Lightning streaks across the sky as rain begins to plummet from the clouds above. "There is nothing wrong with fear," he says quietly, "no one is fearless"

"Ada is," I mumble. _And Amil, she is more than I ever will be, _I add silently. My captor does not reply, instead he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I do not shy away, instead, moving further into his embrace. "Get some sleep, she-elf. We will be safe here. Gingiberi and Arcus are watching," he mumbles, shifting slightly. I nod and close my eyes, for once, completely unafraid of the storm raging above us.

_I dream of walking down a hallway and into a grand library, filled with thousands of books. There are books on the arts, fighting, tactics, sewing, map reading, history, you name it, it's there. But there are only a select few that stand out, all with a common theme; languages. Every language has its own book. I pull out a few and move over to a single desk and chair, set up in the midst of the labyrinth of knowledge and open the first book. The first page is empty, as is the second, but I flick through the entire book, and find one short passage:_

_Nessa the Dancer, Spouse of the Champion of Valinor, stolen and forced to carry the child of Morgoth. After miscarriage of the child, she becomes infatuated with the dark Lord of Valar._

_ Aulëand Tulkas__ Astaldo place blame on one another for the disappearance of Nessa, with Tulkas attempting, and succeeding to kill Aulë__, who had led Nessa into the hands of the Dark Lord. Tulkas finds Nessa, only to be captured and, in the end, killed by his spouse, with a dagger through the back of the head. Realizing what has occurred; Nessa is overwhelmed with grief and turns the dagger on herself, ending her own life. After hearing of the Stoneblessings, Morgoth creates a sick kind of memorial to the three fallen Lords and Lady. Stonejinxes. Steel, for Aulë__; the first to fall, Onyx for Tulkas and Bornite for Nessa._

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

I sit there, the elf has been asleep for a while now, and the storm is as fierce as ever. Why I had decided to comfort her is beyond me. _I cannot be getting feelings for her. Orcs and Elves do not love one another, _I think, putting it down to pity.

The problem is, sometimes what we think we know is right, can often be the most incorrect of things. – tjlockwood

I look down at her, her hood down and her face relaxed. Not scared, or sad, or apologetic, but calm, as if nothing is wrong in the world. I feel something warm against my chest. I pull a faded cord made of leather. On the end is an unhewn piece of Onyx. I was one of a few, a mere handful, rarer than the Stoneblessed. There are only ever three of us at a time, if the stories of the Chosen are to be believed. _Stonejinxed. _I almost spit at the thought. If it were not for Morgoth, Nessa, Aulë and Tulkas Astaldo, we would not be jinxed. I look down at the stone, to find it, not quite glowing, but not as it should. I look over at the elf sleeping, she must be jinxed also. _But with what? _I wonder, before dozing off, into a dreamless sleep, one word echoing in my mind, _Ayisha._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_I hope I can upload another chapter before Christmas and my birthday in five days, so if I don't, it means if I don't, I actually have friends! *dun dun DUUN!*_


	9. Chapter Eight

wake up the next day to find myself alone, lying on the ground. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. The grass is still wet with dew but I find only ashes where the fire was. _I slept through the storm, _I think. I hadn't done so since before I was little. He had made me feel safe enough, but how? He is my captor; he should not be _nice _or _safe._ I stand up and stretch, yawning as I do. _Where is he?_ I wonder. I whistle, hoping that Arcus would be around, without weapons, isolation is dangerous. I hear him trotting up, and I sigh in relief, "Thank god you are still here"

"Where else would I be?" I go to reply, but do a double-take, "D-did you just t-talk?"

"Of course, everyone does," he replies, somewhat sassily. I sit back down; it is way too early for this. "Am I hallucinating?" I ask him.

"No"

"But, _how?_" I put my head in my hands; _this is not possible, have I lost my sanity? _I look up to see Arcus looking at me, head cocked to the side. "How should I know?" he asks.

"Fine then. Do you know where Bolg is?" I ask, slightly frustrated.

"Ooh, we're on a first name basis now, are we?" he snickers. I groan and try to swipe at him, only to fall flat on my face, causing Arcus to let out a bark of laughter. "He went to go find some things," he says, "Gingiberi told me"

"Ooh, on a first name basis now, are you?" I say, mocking the Warg. He huffs, but does not reply. He instead nudges me, "They're coming back," he tells me, "are you going to sit up?"

"Nope, the ground is my friend," I say, staying here I am. I hear them pad up to me and hear my captor walk towards me. "Ayisha?" my head snaps up at the sound of my name. I see the orc looking down at me. I smile weakly and sit up. "Good morning," I say, inviting him to sit by patting the sandy ground beside me. He sits down, but when I look up at him, my smile disappears. Whatever it is, it is serious. "We need to talk," he starts, "there is a legend, well two really. Do you remember the Stoneblessed?" I nod. "Good. There are another, very similar, but there are only ever three in the world"

"You mean the Stonejinxed?" I say, remembering my dream from the previous night.

"Yes," he says, eyes steeling warily, "how do you know?"

"A dream" he goes silent, deep in thought. "What was in this dream?" he mutters.

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

I resorted to Black Speech, so I don't have to concentrate on the common tongue. "I was in a library, and I read about the Stonejinxed," she says. This couldn't be coincidence, nor could she have learnt my native tongue over a few days. "How do you know what I'm saying? I am talking in Black Speech, as are you," I say, looking her dead in the eye.

"No you aren't, I can understand you," she replies, more than a little shocked. I stand up and move over to Gingiberi, who lies beside Arcus, the mysterious patchwork Warg. I reach my mount and go through the pouch on her saddle, pulling out two objects; a piece of steel, and a dark, coloured gem. It was Bornite, a rare, semi-precious rock, found only in the southern end of the Misty Mountains. This is the only way to test my theory. I walk back over and hold out the stone and steel. She looks at the two stones. "Pick them up," I say, trying to avoid explanation.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

I reach out and take the two objects from his hands, one is steel, but the other is a beautiful rock. It glows very slightly, but that is enough for the orc. "You are Bornite jinxed," he comments, taking the steel from you.

"What does that mean?"

"Isn't it obvious? You can understand and speak _any _language," he says, picking me up, holding me off the ground, "come, we must continue, lest the elves reach us" I nod as my feet once more touch the ground. I make my way over to Arcus. I hear him snigger. "What?" I growl.

"Nothing…" I ignore the Warg; he acts like he knows something. I look down at the gem. _Stonejinxed, _I ponder, _I guess it could work. _I mount the patchy Warg, as we set off, to Mordor. I pull a mithril chain off of my neck, hoping to attach the Bornite rock to it. I sit there, my gaze alternating between the chain and rock. I turn the rock, to find a small, almost invisible hole in the Bornite. I slip an end of the chain through it and put the new item around my neck. The stone is heavier than I thought, but I soon adjust to the added weight.

For the first few hours, nothing seems to happen. We continue to travel, but I soon become restless. I try to occupy the time, but nothing works. I hear Gingiberi Growl, and I look up to see Bolg scanning the horizon. I feel Arcus rumble beneath me. "Elves?" I ask.

"Men," is Bolg's reply. I nod in understanding and pull my hair back, prepared for the worst. "Don't try anything," the orc hisses before passing me twin swords. I look around, and see a large company of mounted riders' gallop towards us from the west. s_ellswords and bandits. _I sigh, adjusting my grip on the swords, I did not need to hold onto Arcus, he will feel my balance and move accordingly to keep me on. We had the strongest bond, whereas the prince, and even my own brother, had unwittingly broken the bonds between them and their Wargs. But not me, I had ensured I would have a strong bond, so I could be ready for anything. The men are a mere fifty metres from us, but we hold our ground, next to each other but facing opposite ways. The men circle us, surrounding us, in an attempt to intimidate us, although from the terror on their horses' faces, our Wargs are doing the frightening. Gingiberi growls and Arcus snarls, as one of the horses, a buckskin mare, whinnies and rears. "Lay down your weapons," a helmed man says.

"To scum like you?" I spit at him. This enrages the man, and he draws a two-handed longsword. I look at the men; they are not bandits, but riders, but so far from Rohan? It is hard to be certain. I sit there as the man moves his stead up to me, and I watch as Bolg turns around. "Orc shit, I should have known," he taunts. His gaze moves over from him to me, "a she-elf? So far from Greenwood? I know men who would pay for even an hour with you."

"That's enough, Fulgar. She is my captive, she will not be harmed," Bolg says, sneering. _He knows this man? Perhaps they are not riders…_

"Bolg!" Fulgar exclaims, "I thought you were to be in Dol Guldur?"

"Orders changed. He wants me in Mordor," he lies smoothly. _I would crumble so easily…_

"Why have a captive then?" the man pushes, "with weapons too. Quite bizarre if you ask me"

"I'm not asking you," Bolg snaps before turning around and leading our party out of the ring of horses, as if they are no more than trees. I try not to look happy at leaving the ring of men. My uncle always said that they were the worst of all in Middle-Earth, second only to the dark beings in Mordor. I keep my head down but I feel the hungry looks of the men, even after we pass through their ranks. Arcus trots up next to the other Warg and I pass him my weapons before he asks for them. He takes them and puts them on the back of his saddle where they were only moments ago. "Stay near me," Bolg says, "Knowing Fulgar, he will not stop until he has you with his bastard in your womb" I gulp and move Arcus over closer to him still.

We travel in silence for a mere five minutes. I hear hoof beats and find myself going stock still, unable to turn around lest I see the men hot on our heels. "Bolg, my friend" I whimper quietly, my fears confirmed in those three small words. I feel us pulling up as we wait for Fulgar. "The men have no need for me, they are to head back to Isengard, so I figured, why not join an old comrade?" he explains, looking over at me, smiling. I shiver, his smile unnerves me. It is filled with arrogance and he looks at me as though undressing me with his eyes. I look away, hearing him continue to talk to the orc. _I wonder how they know each other, _I try to take my mind off it, there are a hundred and one possibilities. I look around, there is no longer any plant life. I feel as though my entire life has been ripped away from me. The forests I grew up in were hard enough to leave, but no more plant life? I small part of me is shattered, while another part of me is excited. This is where my ada grew up, _I am finally travelling!_


	10. Chapter Nine

**Legolas POV**

First, my niece goes missing, then my nephew _and _my son, go out and follow her, to bring her back. The youngest generation of elves have surely lost their sanity. Ayisha refused to braid her hair, but this? _Preposterous, _I think, shaking my head. I walk out of the study and through to the throne room. I sit upon the throne as my sister walks in. ever since her daughter had left, she had been broken. Her husband, Azog, or Tuor, as the rest the elves call him, his elfish name. When he read the letter, he had stormed out of the room, and out to the courtyard, where he had all but killed the training models we had. I sit there, watching the pair make their way across the expanse of the room and stop in front of me. I incline my head as they bow deeply. "Any news?" they ask.

"No, none as yet, but a report came back, our sons are still alive and uninjured," I say. I wish I could do more, bring happiness back to the pair, but I cannot, only the return of their daughter will achieve that.

"Thank you, my king," my sister whispers, voice as timid as a mouse's. They bow once more and take their leave, leaving the same way they came, with heads bowed, arm in arm.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

We make camp for the night, although where we are is a complete mystery to me at least. What I do know, is that we do not need to keep watch, we are in unofficial orc land, we will not be troubled. I help my captor as much as I can, unrolling his bedroll and lighting a fire for him while he talks to Fulgar. The fire is only small, as sticks are somewhat few and far between. I sit next to the orc. "So what is she, your cocotte? Your slave?" the man queries. He had taken off his helm and I look at him closely now. He has matted brown hair and what seem to be black eyes, with a hooked nose and a scar running from under his right eye down to the left side of his jaw, the pale line smooth against the rest of his skin. "She is my slave, she is to come with me wherever I go, and do what I wish for her to do," he replies. I look at him. _Slave!?_ He pulls me to him, so I am leaning on him. "and you are quite the gem, aren't you, my little jinx?"

"Yes Master," I reply, understanding my situation. If I want to survive, I need to do what it takes.

"Master? Not very original," Fulgar scoffs, "Why not 'my lord', 'sir', or better yet, 'heru'?" I try not to glare at his mockery of my native language. I see my captor shake his head with disgust, "no, I am my jinx's master, no less" he pulls me impossibly closer, and I feel him kiss the top of my head. I shiver, more from the man's icy glare than the actual weather. I nestle into his chest, trying to get comfortable. "I think she may be more than just a household slave," Fulgar observes, deliberately leaving the rest of the statement unsaid, but the meaning clear. "We should call it a night. We have a long way to travel on the morrow," Bolg says, standing up, "Come now, my jinx, the night is bitter, you will share my bedroll." I blush three shades of red. Although the odds of us doing anything was extremely slim, I had never shared a bed with a male. I stand and follow him dutifully and clamber under the covers once more nuzzling next to him. His back was facing where Fulgar was to spend the night. _He is protecting me_, I realize, _he may not be an elf, but he is more honorable than any elf I know. _He wraps his arm around me as we both attempt to get some sleep. I lie there, safe and secure in the arms of an orc. I hear snoring_, Fulgar had succumbed to dreams_. "My little jinx?" my captor whispers.

"Yes?"

"I am sorry, it is the only way I can keep you safe, making you my slave, that is," he says.

"It is okay. I understand," I whisper, "There is no one I would rather be enslaved by" I look up at him, to find him watching me, looking for signs of mockery where there is none. "You do not believe me?" I murmur, genuinely hurt. He says nothing, instead kisses my forehead, making me blush once more, "You are too kind for your own good, Ayisha"

"I think the same of you, Bolg," I reply, using his name. I like the way it sounds, "you have a lovely name, lovelier than most elves" he looks stunned.

"You mock me?" he asks. I shake my head.

"Never," to prove my point I do what he least expects of me, I kiss him. Not a lusty kiss, but an innocent one, on his lips. I pull away, blushing again while I bury my head in his chest. I peek up at him to find a small smile gracing his face. "Get some sleep, little jinx," he says, hugging me a little tighter, "we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow"

* * *

><p>I sleep soundly, comfortable in the warmth of the bedroll. I wake early the next morning, and for a second, I forget where I am, but remember the events that unfurled the previous night, and relish the peace. Bolg's arms are wrapped around me. <em>He is protective. <em>I look at his face. He is still asleep, and his face is not angry, but at peace. He is not unattractive, nor does he have the same elegance of an elf, but somewhat attractive nonetheless, the total opposite of how orcs are portrayed in the dusty old history books found within the confines of the palace archive. I sigh quietly, as much as I love to travel, I do miss my home, with its lit chambers and my family. Bolg stirs beside me, and I watch as he wakes up. "Good morning," I say, smiling, thoughts of home still float about my head.

"Good morning, Ayisha my little jinx," he murmurs. He releases me and sits up, already alert and ready. I, on the other hand, sit up and rub my eyes, taking a little longer to reach the same level of alertness as the orc. I shimmy out of the bed roll and look over at where the man, Fulgar sat, honing his blade, while his horse, a beautiful dappled grey with a long black mane and tail. It is a rather willowy horse, that doesn't suit him, perhaps it was stolen from a small village. I dismiss the thought as I roll up the bedroll for Bolg, while he talks to Fulgar. "Why have you some with us?" he asks in the Common Tongue.

"Sick of pillaging. The raping's not so bad," he says. I can hear the smugness, "but it's so… Repetitive. But enough about me, where _did _you pick her up?" by this point, I finish with the bedroll and I make my way to the pair. I stand back from them and wait to be addressed. Bolg looks over at me, "Yes?"

"Is there anything else you would have me do, Master?" I ask innocently.

"No. come, sit," he offers me the spot next to him. I curl up the same way I did last night. It pleases him and is awfully comfortable. "I captured her on the borders of Greenwood," he answers casually, but as far as I know, he has said nothing of my heritage.

"Maybe I should go there myself, are they all as fine as this one?"

"She was hard to catch. She killed a scout from over a hundred metres and maimed another. I had to surround her," Bolg says. _Why are you making me sound so impressive? _I want to scream at him, _I am no better than the men and there are many she-elves finer to look upon than me._

"I wouldn't know if there were finer. Are there, little jinx?"

"Yes, Master, there are plenty. I am considered quite plain within Greenwood," I say quietly. I almost mention my position in the elfish realm, but keep my mouth shut. "If that is indeed the case, they must make fine prizes indeed," Fulgar says, too casually.

"My little jinx, why don't you do up our friends bedroll. We need to talk"

I nod and stand up, before walking over and rolling the bedding, quickly and efficiently. I secure it atop the tethered horse. I strain my ears but the pair talks only in whispers and murmurs. I huff and look over and make eye contact with the orc, pointing to a cluster of rocks. He nods. I let out a small sigh of relief, he understood. I make my way over and, in simple terms, relieve myself. I make my way back around to the camp and notice they are still talking, still planning. I wait until I am called back, resuming my seat. "My little jinx," Bolg starts, "How do you feel about hunting?"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<br>asdfghjkl! I saw BOTFA today and ASDFGHJKL! Amazing! Love you Peter Jackson! Anywho, just thought I'd leave you hanging for a little, you know, on a cliff, with Ayisha's morals in danger and the like..._

_~tjlockwood_


	11. Chapter Ten

"H-hunting?"

"Yes, hunting. You know; when you go out and kill animals for _food,_" Fulgar sneers.

"Fulgar," Bolg warns. _I'm an elf, I don't hunt,_ I think, panic stricken. I look up to Bolg, I may as well see how well I can use my gift. "I have never been hunting," I say in Black Speech, "the only meat came from soldiers putting deer and game out of misery" I look up at him, and try not to look at the man across from us.

"It's okay," he soothes, "you only have to come along, I will not force you to kill anything"

"Thank you," I reply. I look away and down at the dusty ground.

"So, when do we leave?" Fulgar asks, a cold glare passing over me. _He doesn't understand Black Speech; I'll have to remember that. _I tuck the thought away as Bolg stands up. "We go now, game will be hard enough to find," he helps me up and whistles, calling the Wargs to us.

I hear the Wargs and turn around. Arcus rushes up to me, fussing over me. "You are such a mother hen," I whisper.

"I do not trust the man. He reeks of distrust," Arcus snarls.

I feel a presence behind me. "Why are you talking to a beast, slave?" I stay silent, not wanting to anger Fulgar. "I asked you a question"

"Apologies, sir," I say, bowing my head, "I just do. Habit, some would say" as he walks to his horse, a release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Too close, far too close"

"I'll say," Bolg says from atop Gingiberi. _Shit. _

"I'm sorry, I just…" I trail off, gesturing at nothing in particular. He chuckles as I mount Arcus, mustering what little dignity I have. We set off, Fulgar having untethered his horse, and we head west. "There is a small wood there, we will find decent game," Bolg explains as we travel. I nod but do not talk conversation was unnecessary. I try to fill in the time, but it does not work, instead I become restless. Fulgar and Bolg chat away in front of me. I sigh, missing the conversations between Bolg and myself. I look ahead and see the tree line, I nearly cheer. I had missed trees and plants so much. We come to a stop just ahead of the woodland and the man dismounts, followed shortly after by Bolg. "Come, little jinx," he says, "You will stay close"

I dismount and move over to my captor, on the left, as far from Fulgar as possible. Bolg looks down at me and nods slightly in understanding, before guiding me deeper into the woods. We walk in complete silence for hours, until I notice a small stag, limping along to our left, completely unaware of our presence. I get Bolg's attention, pointing at the lamed creature. He draws and notches and arrow before releasing, hitting the creature in the eye, a merciful death. We approach it and he pulls the arrow out. I hear a _twang. _Followed by an "I got one!" _Fulgar… _I roll my eyes. Bolg picks up the carcass and heads towards the loud man. There is a crashing and a wail. He has not hit the deer, a doe, in such a way to kill it, but hit its back leg, making it buck and flail. He stands there, laughing at its pain. I am outraged, and I turn to Bolg, "I need a knife" he hands me one, not asking why. I move over to the deer, and notice another arrow, this one in its chest. "it hurts," she whimpers, "please, have mercy"

"Of course, my friend," I reply, it is the least I can do. I pull up the knife and slit the doe's throat, killing her instantly. I cry silently as she ceases to move. Fulgar picks up the carcass, "Women," he mutters, "pathetic." Knife in hand, still covered in the doe's blood, I push him up against a tree, causing him to drop the carcass. "You cruel man, "I hiss, "you could have put her out of her suffering, not torment her like that" I press the blade a little harder against his neck, just soft enough not to draw blood. I glare at him, finding a sick pleasure at the look of fear on his face. I pull away and hand the knife back to Bolg, tears still running down my face. I go to follow the men but I hear a rustle. "ma?" _a fawn! _I feel guilt bubble up inside me. "Oh little one," I coo, "your ma is with the Valar now" I stroke the top of his head, as reality sinks in. "do you have anywhere to go?" I ask, wanting to get him as far from Fulgar as possible. He nods, "the next clearing over" I nod, and hurry him along, for his safety. Just as his form melds into the woods, I hear another _twang!_ And watch in horror as the fawn drops to the ground, dead.

I whirl around, a snarl on my face. _Of course. _"you." I lunge at the man, and pin him to the ground. He struggles and flails beneath me. I find a dagger on his belt and I hold it to his throat. He instantly stops moving. "What would happen if I were to _kill _you?"

"Nothing. Men are easy to replace," I hear Bolg say from behind me. I look over at him, he has a small smirk on his face, he has been waiting a while for this. "is that so?" I press the blade, drawing blood. He yelps in pain. "Let me tell you something, cruel man," I sneer, "I. Am. No. Slave"

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

I hear her whisper something to the man, before slitting his throat. I watch in mild shock and awe as blood covers her hands and runs into the dirt. Fulgar coughs, choking on his own blood. He jerks and spasms before finally stilling, dead. "Ayisha," I say, moving over to her, she has moved to the side of the body, "are you okay?"

She looks at her hands, covered in drying blood. "I killed him," she whispers. She looks up at me, her green eyes filled with tears, but with something one never sees in elves. _Bloodlust. _"I… e-enjoyed it," she says.

"You have simply spent too long with me, you did not enjoy it," I reply, helping her stand. She does not need encourage her. I whistle and my Warg trots up to me. I place the stag and doe's carcasses on her back, while picking up the fawn. We walk out of the woods and I look at the sun. _We need to make camp_. I find a small level area near a stream. I stop and put the fawn's carcass on the ground, before placing the other two kills beside it. I hear her set up my bedroll. I start to skin the fawn, we have too much meat, but we will eat well nonetheless. "You do not need to do that, little jinx," I say, never looking away from my work.

"I have nothing else to do," she replies. I finish skinning the small deer and move onto the doe, and begin the process again.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

I finish collecting wood for a fire, setting up his bedroll even taking the saddle off of Gingiberi, before long, I have nothing else to occupy my mind. I sigh and sit next to Bolg, watching him skin the deer. I am not upset, not anything. I watch as he peels the skin from the meat, like one would peel a fruit. As he lays the skin of the doe besides the fawn's. "What will you do with the skins?" I ask.

"You will need a thicker cloak, one that is not elfish," he explains, skinning the buck. I simply nod as we lapse into a comfortable silence. We sit there until he finishes the skinning and stands up. I watch him as he lights the fire. I don't know what to say. He picks up the doe, moving it over to where our Wargs had settled down for the night. He places it in front of them and they begin to gorge, I turn away and look at the fawn skin. I reach out and touch it. It is like velvet. I go to pick it up but Bolg beats me to it. He scoops all three of the skins up and moves them closer to the fire. "come, you must be cold, little jinx," he says softly, guiding me to the small fire. He passes my knapsack and I take out one of the last pieces of Lembas. I eat it, and it is like ashes in my mouth. I force it down and turn to him, "how are you going to preserve the skins?"

"With a bit of sand, and a lot of luck," he says, covering the skin side of the pelts in sand. I hear him muttering under his breath and after a moment, he stops and hake the sand off, they are cured and preserved. "How?"

"Even I have a few tricks up my sleeve," he says, "Get some sleep, little jinx"

I lay down, in the bedroll, and feel sleep pull me from reality.

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

I put the fawn on the fire, he Wargs could have the stag too, there's no sense in wasting good meat. I look over at Ayisha and back down at the skins, there would be more than enough pelt for a decent cloak. I reach into a knapsack and pull out a bone needle and long, leather-like thread. I sigh, it is a simple enough thing; to make a cloak, but it has to be done well, or the cloak will not last. I pick up the doe's skin and begin my work.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Ayisha POV**

I wake the next morning, just before dawn. Bolg is already awake, as are the Wargs. I get up and begin to pack up the bedroll. I do it in silence, not having anything to talk about. I listen to the small talk between the Wargs, they are at ease in each other's company. Their talk is as dull as Ada and Amil's. I tune them out. "Ayisha, we will leave soon, you should put on the cloak, you will blend in, attract less attention," I look up to see him holding the cloak. It is rolled, so I take it in my hands and place it on the dry ground. I remove my current cloak, a mottled green and brown one of elfish make. I remove the pin holding it together. It is a small, mithril oak and acorn pin, the sigil of my father. The oak is the strongest kind of tree that could be found in Greenwood. The cloak puddles in the dirt. I pick up my new cloak and shake it out. It is nearly to the ground and is waterproof, with the skin on the outside and the fur of the pelt on the inside. I can barely see the stitches but I do notice where it goes from the stag to the doe. I pin the cloak together, and only then notice the hood of the cloak. _The fawn's skin_. I smile, "Thank you. It is beautiful"

He says nothing; instead he picks up my old cloak and balls it up around a rock before throwing it away. "Come, we need to leave"

* * *

><p><strong>Luca POV<strong>

We have been tracking my sister for only a few days, but it was simple enough, follow the giant dog tracks. "Eller ier aith a' i' south, Taren Aikanáro. Ron ier n'ataya a' i' esta," I say to my cousin. _(There are markings to the south, prince __Aikanáro. They are different to the rest__) _

"Ier ron n'ataya faarea?" he replies coldly._ (Are they different enough to use my time?) _I nod, and lead him to the strange markings. There are the two sets of paw prints, as would be expected, but around them, are dozens of sets of hoof prints. The prince's purple eye roams the scene, taking in everything. "Ron ier apanonar nan' il en' Rohan, ten' ron ier il astald faarea ri' amada faarea a' mallen a erya orc. I' apanonar ier en' Gundabad," he says to the small party. _(They are men but not of Rohan, for they are not brave enough or fool enough to circle a single orc. The men are of Gundabad) _I single thought goes through my head, _Ayisha is in danger! _

"Ier lye a' dae Ayisha sal'?" The elf to my right says. _(Are we to follow Ayisha still?) _I go to reply, but I am cut off by the prince. His purple eye glares at me, a silent message to keep my mouth shut.

"N'uma, re is vee' quel vee' ba," he says nonchalantly, "lye dol ten' eska." _(No, she is as good as dead, we head for home) _he turns and heads north, back to Greenwood. I go to follow, but something catches my eye. I turn to it to find a mottled cloak, torn and dirty, floating on the wind, before sinking down into my outstretched hand. It is Ayisha's; there is no doubt about it. I look it over, there are bloodstains on it. I lay the bloodied cloak over my legs and turn back to the party, back to my home, where I had to tell my parents my sister, their daughter, is dead.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

We have been traveling for a few weeks, and I can see the Black Gate. "This is my home, as it will be yours," Bolg says, "I apologize that you are here as a slave"

I cut him off, "do not apologize. I am your prisoner, your slave. Do not forget that, lest you dishonour yourself"

"As always, you are too smart for your own good. You may yet thrive here," he replies, pulling my hood over my head. I smile, an action Bolg does not miss. As we approach, a loud voice echoes over the gate, "Who approaches?" two simple words, but words that send a shiver down my spine, I feel myself cower and curse inwardly, but feel relieved that I now look more the prisoner and less the royal she-elf.

"You know well who it is, Zaglúk, son of Zargulg," he replies, but not unkindly. _Zargulg, as in the orc who took my Ada's position? _I shrug off the thought and fiddle with Arcus' fur.

"Bolg! Come through, but we were not expecting you"

"I know, change of plans," my captor replies. I hear a loud groan and watch in awe as the gates, which are easily a thousand foot tall and at least thrice that wide, open before me revealing a dusty landscape, where the movements of a thousand orcs could be seen. I see a large mountain, which is actually a volcano, Bolg tells me, and a tall tower, with a large beam coming from it. "What is that?" I ask quietly.

"A subject for another time," is all he says, before taking a sharp turn to the left.

I look around once more, and see that the orcs are all stoped and have their eyes trained on Bolg, all with their left fist on their right shoulder, bowing slightly. We pass through a market full of orcs and orcesses, buying, selling, and haggling. It is identical to what I thought a market in a village of men to look like, only, it was in Mordor. We pass through the market and reach an area filled with small, mud-brick homes, with young orcs, imps, running around. As we venture further into the homes, the houses got bigger until we stopped. The house wouldn't be considered grand when compared to the palace of Greenwood, but it is _huge_. Bolg dismounts and I shortly follow. A young orc walks out of the house and starts to remove the riding gear, but Bolg shoos him away. "I can't believe it Arcus," you whisper excitedly, "Mordor. I must be the first elf to see all of this!"

"Yes. It's quite the place," Arcus agrees. Bolg walks over, and takes my hand gently, "Come."

We walk through the front doorway, and I try not to gasp. There are many people walking around; men and orcs both. "Are they all slaves?" I ask.

"The men and women, yes. The orcs are paid, to help their families out," he explains. The walls have tapestries depicting many different scenes, but I can place none of them. They seem mostly about battle, but there are scenes that are tranquil, of families and feasts. I see many animal skins adorning the floor, acting as rugs. We turn down a hall and I am awe-struck. _This place, it's huge!_ We walk to the end of the hall and through to a room. I remain passive as I see the bed in the centre of the room, making this room his bed chambers. "This is where you will sleep, you will always be safe here," he says, taking the hood off your head. I shiver at the lack of covering, "what will I do. Here, I mean?"

"You will simply serve me at meals when there are other guests, fetch the occasional thing for me, sit beside me and look like the magnificent trophy others will expect you to be," he explains. I nod as I process the information. It seems simple enough, but so many situations run through my head, _what if, what if, what if? _Just as I am about to talk, a young woman walks in and passes me a complicated piece of clothing. She is a head shorter than me, with blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She says nothing, and goes to leave. "Rosalin?" Bolg asks the woman, using common tongue.

"Yes Master Bolg?"

"Please help Ayisha into her new gown, and then show her to the main room," he says, before leaving the room.

She looks over at me, my hair a rat's nest, though covering my ears. "You will need to undress," she says, though not unkindly. I do as she asks and I am soon standing in my undergarments. "You will need to undress," she repeats, almost mechanically. I blush, and quickly take off the only pieces of fabric covering me. I stand there, trying not to cover myself in shame as she unfolds the gown. It is more a strip of fabric than an actual gown. She begins to wrap it around me, explaining how to do it as she went. She steps away, finished. "Thank you," I murmur quietly. The gown only covers the bare necessities, looping over my right shoulder and wrapping around my body and ending midway down my thigh. It is a white material, although a little scratchy and a single pin, a rough metal circle with a long needle-like pin holds it all together. "Come, I must take you to Master Bolg," she says, "I am Rosalin, by the way"

"Ayisha," you reply. She leads me out the door and down the hallway. "Oh, I almost forgot! You need to wear your hair up," she pulls out a stick and pulls my hair back, before wrapping up around like a bun and pushing the stick through it, holding it together. I hear her gasp, quiet, yet noticeable, "An elf?"

"Yes, from Greenwood," I reply, thinking of the lush green forests of home.

"He has never kept elves before, no-one ever has," she says, staring at my elongated ears, dazzled. She snaps out of it and drags me along the hall. We reach a door and she opens it, a calm demeanour washing over her and I try to do the same. Bolg is sitting on a chair, although it is more a throne than anything else. "I apologise for taking so long, Master Bolg," Rosalin says.

"You took little time; there is no reason to apologise. You are free to leave and tend to any other duties you have," he replies. She bows slightly and walks out if the same door we came in from. He turns his attention to me now. "My little jinx," he sighs, looking me up and down, "we are expecting guests tonight. Other powerful orcs. You will serve me my food and wine, and attend to any other needs."

"Of course, Master Bolg," I say, using the same title, speaking calmly but dreading the night to come.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_Sooo... Any good? Don't forget to favourite and follow this story so you don't miss a moment! Hope you guys are liking it so far. we are nearly at the halfway mark, so hold onto your horses, shit is about to get real. Very real. So real, reality will look like a bad 70's game!_

_~tjlockwood_


	13. Chapter Twelve

Dusk comes around, and as I see more slaves moving around, the fear inside me grows. I help out where I can, doing what I can. I end up around Rosalin, talking and simply passing the time. As it turns out, she is from a small village just east of Greenwood, and was taken by a troop of orcs when she was a child during a raid. She was taught to pleasure orcs, as well as clean, cook and even learnt some of the language. The first master she had would beat his slaves. She was only twelve at the time. She went through a further three households before being bought at a slave auction by Bolg. "All the slaves think very highly of Master Bolg, Ayisha," she explains, "He never beats us, or rapes us. You are lucky he has decided to keep you, he could've sold you for a lot of money, millions at the least."

"I know," I sigh, "he is very kind indeed."

I am called to the main hall, which has now been turned into a meeting room, with a long table down its centre. It has enough chairs to seat a dozen, with another seat at the head of the table, where Bolg sits and waits for me to reach him. I walk briskly down the length of the room and I stop just to his left. "Kneel," he says. I comply, and lower my gaze until I am looking at his feet. _My life depends on me doing what_ _he wants. I cannot balk. _"You remember what you need to do?"

"Yes sir. I will bring you food and drink, tend to your needs and be the trophy I am," I reply.

"Good girl. Do not look anyone in the eye, you would be being disrespectful and I would have no choice but to punish you," he continues sternly, "do exactly as I say."

"Yes Master Bolg," I promise, although I do not have much of a choice. I look up to see a wide smile on his face. "Come now little jinx, stand beside me. I want everyone to see you."

Just as I move to where Bolg wants me to, the doors at the other end of the room open, and I gulp as orcs file in. they all look the identical, yet by the same token, entirely different.

The first orc to take a seat is short, although still taller than me. He is stick thin, his skin a dark brown, almost black and has flat golden eyes and long dreadlocks. He limps, favouring his left leg, _a battle wound perhaps?_ As he takes a seat, I look at the next orc. He also has dark skin and golden eyes, but he is bald and has numerous chins and a large belly, I keep a calm façade as he waddles to his chair. The third has sickly looking skin, a green tinge to it. He has long ears, but not like elves, more like a goblins and has fierce brown eyes. He is bald, except for a long ponytail near the top of his head. He is about as tall as Bolg and almost as muscled. He looks at me and I cower, making him smile. The fourth orc in line is actually an orcess, with high cheekbones and fine features. Unlike her counterparts, her skin very similar to my own, but tonged with grey pigment, no doubt due to her black blood. Her eyes are golden and as her cool gaze sweeps over me, I do not feel afraid, but vulnerable and somewhat respected. The fifth and sixth orcs are identical, with the same sickly skin as the third. The only visible difference is their eyes. The one on the left has amber eyes; the right has flat black ones. The seventh is an ancient orc, his dark skin shrivelled and wrinkled, his gold eyes clouding over. Orc number eight is Rosalin's height, and has severe scarring on the right half of his face, although his vision does not seem impaired. The ninth orc looks more like a man than anything else, with a long cloak and tunic, although with a relatively plain face, compared to the other eight orcs. The tenth orc was lean, but in the same way an elf is, with short-cropped hair and the same amber eyes as most of his counterparts. Number eleven is quite possibly the youngest, if I were to put an age on him; he would be no more than a teen. He looks my way and I quickly look down, but not before seeing him flash a smile, revealing sharpened teeth.

I look for the last orc to enter, and find there is no one else. I look at Bolg, hoping for some hint at what's going on, but his face is blank. "Where is he?" the fat orc asks, chins wobbling. The others start muttering to one another.

"I agree," the tall orcess says, "Where is Fulgar. He should be here. We should never have accepted him into the circle."

_Fulgar?! I killed him, _you think, starting to panic, _Bolg said he was unimportant. _I hear Bolg clear his throat, the chatter stops instantly. "Fulgar is dead." The voices start again, in Black Speech, but I understand it nonetheless. "I watched him die," Bolg continues. The orcs hush to listen to Bolg's story, "I watched as a fierce and ruthless elfish warrior pinned him down and slit his throat"

"Why did he kill Fulgar?" the twins ask at the same time.

"_She _killed him for the murder of a mother and infant," Bolg replies, unfazed by the unison.

The old orc turns and looks directly at me, speaking softly, yet with a menacing power, "yet you did kill her?"

"No, I did not"

"Why?" the scrawny orc demands.

"Because I went one better. I made her my slave," Bolg says calmly, "you see?"

I feel eleven sets of eyes all bore into me as I force myself to look down. I desperately try to move backwards but Bolg is one step ahead of me and firmly places one hand on my back, holding me in place. "What's your name?" one orc demands.

"Who are you?" another yells. I am scared, too startled to talk. The queries are thrown at me, most in Black Speech and Common Tongue. I drop to the ground and cover my eyes, hoping it will all go away. "ENOUGH!" I hear a voice yell, the other orcs stop immediately. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up to see the orcess crouched in front of me. "What is your name, elf?" she asks, sternly but quietly.

"Ayisha, if it please you Miss," I whisper, hating how timid I must look.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ayisha. I am Sloiuga, the Pointing Claw," she replies, "Now, tell me, Ayisha, how do you know Black Speech?"

I look up at Bolg, who, with a face full of worry and anger, nods slightly. "I am jinxed," I explain quietly, only to her, "I can understand and speak any language." She nods and stands up. I follow, but keep my head down. I hear her sit back down. I step back and look at Bolg. He mouths _later_, and turns to the party of orcs, "we will discuss business, with good food and better drink." As he finishes talking, twelve young women, including Rosalin walk to the table, holding a platter each. They place each platter in front of every orc, including Bolg. A middle-aged man walks in next, carrying a large beaker, presumably carrying drink. He walks around, filling each mug, never receiving thanks. "Ayisha, whatever you hear, you never share," Bolg orders.

"Yes, Master Bolg," I say. I watch the orcs eat and I fill their mugs with more alcohol, ale, as it turns out. "The men of Gundabad are in disarray, with Fulgar dead," the fat orc says.

"Of course, but it means we no longer need to worry about them," the ponytail orc replies, "let them plunder and do what they want. They cannot disrupt us."

"That is true, Zaglúk," Bolg agrees, "But they will reassume their position soon enough."

The twins mutter to one another, while Sloiuga talks to the eldest of the group, looking over at me every so often. "Elf!" I snap out of my thoughts and turn to the source of the voice, it is the youngest orc.

"Yes sir?" I reply.

"Come." I walk over to him; he is at the other end of the table, each step making my heart sink. _What have I done wrong?_ "Yes sir?"

"How _did _you kill Fulgar?"

"I – I slit his throat, sir," I say, cursing at the stutter.

"Is that so? Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy watching the life leave his eyes, the feeling of his hot blood flowing over your hands?" he says.

"Yes sir. I did," I reply, my voice not quavering, the strength reassuring me.

"Did you now?" he sneers, "you were not caught after killing him then. Elves never enjoy death, you must have been around orcs, had our ale in your system, whether through ingestion," he looks at the fresh scar on my arm, "or through a cleansed wound–"

"That's _enough Naká!_" Bolg roars, "If you wish to torment a slave, go to an auction and buy one. You will not play your twisted games with her, or any slave under my roof. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Naká hisses. I look down unsure of what to do.

"Ayisha, come here," Bolg says quietly. I oblige and walk over to him, kneeling. "Sit. You must be tired," he coos, "no-one will hurt you" I lean against his leg and soon find myself dozing off.

* * *

><p><strong>Luca POV<strong>

We reach the palace doors. I look down at Ayisha's cloak again, the blood now dry. As we go through the palace doors, a single tear escapes, running down my face. _My sister, my baby sister… Gone._

I dismount and make my way to the throne room, where my Ada, Amil and the king would be waiting. As I enter the room, I notice the absence of my cousin, but ignore it. The prince has his duty too. I reach the throne and bow, my now shaking hands clutching the cloak tightly. "Lye aran," I start, voice breaking, "arwen atara ar' heru atar. Lye tracked he; re was captured kuila ed' glmhoth." Lye were about a' save he iire re ar' he captor fled atop Arcus ar' he captor's Wargs. Lye trailed sen tenna' ron tracks were surrounded ed' rokko. Amin saw sina n'ala lye came n'alaquel." _(My king, lady mother and lord father. We tracked her; she was captured alive by orcs. We were about to save her when she and her captor fled atop Arcus and her captor's Wargs. We trailed them until their tracks were surrounded by horses. I saw this before we came back) _I hold out the cloak and my uncle, the king, takes it. He looks it over before handing it to my mother, who immediately bursts into tears. "Sina is he collo," she sobs, "Lye laito inya, wanwa. Ten'oio…" _(This is her cloak. My baby girl, gone. Forever) _I watch my parents as their hearts break, which brings renewed tears to my eyes. The king dismisses us, giving us time to grieve.

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

I hear her steady breathing, she is asleep. I look at the orcs in front of me. "We need to get this over with," I say, gaining their attention, "he will want us to go and wreak havoc, but we have families; mates and imps, households to look after. What are we to do?"

"We can only do what he wants. We know he only wants the grandson of Thranduil. Why do we not go in, he will aid our cause, disguise us, and then we could waltz right into Greenwood and take the boy," Zaglúk proclaims.

"That is a sound plan," Sloiuga agrees. I think it through. It is a sound plan indeed. He would definitely disguise us, and even give us supplies; mounts, food, money. He wants Thranduil's grandson, a full grown elf, part of the Royal family, it is not easy, but it can be done.

"There is only one problem," I say, "Thranduil has two grandsons."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_I hope the descriptions of the orcs wasn't tedious or boring, I just wanted to show the personalities of the group._

_~tjlockwood_


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Ayisha POV**

I feel myself shaken awake, and I open my eyes. The orcs are all gone; only Bolg sits at the table now. I push up off the ground. "I am so sorry," I blurt out, "I was a coward, craven! I just didn't know what to do, they were all talking and I didn't want to shame you" I look at my bare feet, ashamed of my actions.

"You did no such thing; on the contrary, Fulgar has been a stick in our asses for years. Sloiuga seems rather fond of you," Bolg replies, standing up, "come, it is late." I nod and follow him dutifully out of the door and down the hall, before reaching his chambers. He pushes open the door and closes it once we are both inside. He starts to undress and, as I realise what he is doing, I look down, blushing furiously. "You know, for such a brave, smart elf, you are quite innocent. Have you never seen a naked male before?" Bolg asks. I shake my head, although I think he may be trying to tease me. "No, never? I thought elves were married at five hundred years of age," he continues. Had I been looking at his face, I would have seen the smile on his face as he changed.

"Most are, but I never got betrothed," I mumble.

"Betrothed? You allow your parents to choose your husband?" he sounds horrified, "Here, if an orc wants a mate, he goes out and takes one. An orcess is like a prize, she must be won, not given." I go to look up, but quickly remember the situation and keep my gaze down.

"A female does not get much of a choice no matter what race she is in, I have found," I sigh, "But at least an orcess can fight back."

"You know, little jinx. If you are going to sleep in here, you'd best get used to my lack of attire," he whispers over my shoulder, making me jump, I had not realised he had moved, "that means you look up, you will have to see me at some point" I tear my gaze from the floor and look over my shoulder at Bolg, not breaking eye contact. He pulls the pin from my hair causing it to tumble over my shoulders and down my back. He turns me around, making me face him. I keep looking at his face, refusing to let my gaze stray. "You are so timid, so modest," the orc murmurs, "only a few decades younger but so different." He pulls the pin out of my dress, causing it to unravel. I hold it in place. He is so forward, almost blunt, but there is no lust in his eye. He does not seem to want my maidenhead. "Why did you do that?" I query.

"Because you cannot sleep in that, you would stab yourself while you sleep. Now drop the garment." I do as he commands, feeling the material slip. I try not to cover myself, and, to my surprise, his eyes do not leave my face. His expression softens, "you trust me?"

"I trust you not to fuck me while I sleep. The other slaves have a high opinion of you. If they can trust you, I can too," I reply. He looks stunned. _He didn't know; he didn't know how they love him._ He shakes his head to clear it, before retraining his gaze on my face. "I suppose I treat them like they are people, not objects, but that makes me no better than other slavers," he reasons, more to himself than to me, "regardless, we must sleep, I need to visit someone tomorrow, and I need you to come."

"Why?"

"Because I need someone I can trust," he admits grudgingly.

"You trust me?" I use the same words he said to me only moments ago.

"Yes. Now, bed" he drags me over to the huge bed and pulls the blankets out, before lying down. I follow and he places the blanket over us both, creating a sudden flush of red up my cheeks. Never, in all my life, would I have thought to be lying in a bed, in Mordor, with a feared orc, in the nude. I hear him chuckle, "You need to think less, and sleep, little jinx. You are naked, so am I, that does not mean we are going to start a family," he chides softly, "Although –"

"No," I reply, too quickly and to harshly, before trying to correct myself, "I mean – I'm sorry – I, ugh!"

He laughs again, "Do not worry Ayisha; it takes more than that to offend me. Now for the last time, sleep, or I will take you." When he says the last part, he says it with such seriousness that I immediately close my eyes and sleepily mutter a goodnight, gaining an equally tired goodnight in return.

* * *

><p><strong>Third Person POV<strong>

The orc and the elf sleep undisturbed. While they started on opposite sides of the bed, they soon end up right beside one another, with her head on his chest. A figure scoffs, _as bad as her mother, the little slut. _As the shadow dismisses the image, he conjures another image, this time in the palace of Greenwood. Two young royals sit in a clearing, where a small oak tree has been planted. The one on the right wears silver, while on the left, green and light brown. As the moon shines overhead, the two elves talk, although the topic is muted. It is not yet strong enough to hear, only see. The figure scowls and the image fades, leaving them standing in the huge room alone, a twisted throne in the centre. They move to the window, and looking through the bars, a barren landscape as far as the eye can see. _I was gifted this land, and half a century ago, it thrived, orcs everywhere, buying and selling. Now, decimated, _the shadowy figure huffs, _I will get my revenge. _They step out into the moonlight, revealing a tall male, his once flame coloured hair with black streaks now the colour of ash, his mismatched eyes, mint green and purple, hard with hatred and malice. "They thought they could get rid of me so easily," he spits in Black Speech, "they were wrong, so very wrong. I am Pharom; to think they could be rid of me so easily. I will have my revenge."


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Ayisha POV**

We make our way along a road, both walking, me slightly behind. Orcs bustle around us, talking, while others sell goods on the side of the road, but all move out of Bolg's way. I hear one orcess, old and shrivelled, calling out, "three for twenty! Three for twenty!" I look over and see a group of children, huddled in a ramshackle wooden pen, clad in brown rags. Their skin is pale and their eyes gaunt, pleading silently. My heart breaks at the sight. There are half a dozen children, waiting to be sold. Bolg turns towards the old orcess. "I will take all of them," he says gruffly.

"That will be forty then," the replies coolly, looking at me, "or you can trade her?" The last part is obviously a question, but Bolg shakes his head, "forty it is."

She leads us to the pen, "They do not understand our tongue, but they can learn."

"Perhaps, but for now, I have a translator," he turns to the children, "I own you now," I repeat it in common tongue. "You will come with me." The withered orcess opens the pen and the children scurry over to me, the two smallest; a girl and boy, holding my hands tightly. "Where now, master Bolg?"

"Home, so the little ones can get food and clothes, then we will continue," he says softly. He watches the children with affection, only noticeable to those who have been on the receiving end. He holds the hands of two young boys, while two other boys walk closely behind. We wind through the crowds and slowly make our back to his home. Once we get through the doors, the children look around, eyes wide and mouths agape. We reach the slaves' quarters and Rosalin comes rushing up, "Master, we were not expecting your return. We can – Oh!" she notices the children.

"Please feed and clothe them, they may be ill too, you know Lûnlúk cares little for their health," he says quietly, pushing the young boys towards her gently, the two little ones leaving me to join the others. They start talking excitedly to Rosalin, happy to see someone who looks similar and talks similar to themselves. She laughs and leads them out of the room. "We must leave now, or we will be late," he turns to me. I nod and follow him out of the room. I once again find myself out in the busy street, following Bolg. He walks briskly, causing me to nearly run. We soon begin to come upon less and less orcs, and the trip soon becomes silent. The land around us is desolate, barren. A large shadow looms. At first it appears to be a mountain, but as we get closer, it becomes a fort. "Who would live in such a place?" I think aloud.

"That, my little jinx, is the someone I need to see. I owe him a favour," my captor, although I feel less a prisoner and more an acquaintance, says to me. I shiver; every hair on my body seems to stand on end.

We reach the door and it opens noiselessly, revealing another wall, with over a hundred arrow slits, and, of course, another gate. For a moment, I think I am home, but as I look closer, everything seems twisted, morbid. _A sick joke_, _that's all. _ I brush off the uneasy feeling, and follow Bolg. The grand doors open, and I nearly cry, the paths, identical. We move along, it's like I'm home, but it's the last place I want to be. I stop, this can't be happening. I feel a jerk on my wrist, and blindly follow.

"Well, well, well," a loud voice booms, "is this the best they could do? A teary-eyed slave?" I look up. The sight that greets me is the face of my nightmares. _Pharom._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_I know, it's short, but I have been suffering from writer's block. BTW: Nearly 10,000 views on Stoneblessed!_

_~tjlockwood_


	16. Chapter Fifteen

I stay silent, my face blank. _I am a slave, I am seen not heard. _I repeat it, over and over like a mantra. I look down, hoping Bolg would say something to break the growing silence. "Well?" the voice isn't Bolg, "what do you have to say?" I look up at Bolg, only to see him nod, _really helpful._

"I am a slave sir. I am only my Master's property," I speak, injecting fear into my voice. For a moment, I do not break eye contact, his eye, the purple colour, so familiar. "What?" he snaps. I look down immediately, lest I irk him. "Thought as much." He turns his attention away from me and I quietly sigh. "Bolg."

"Pharom," Bolg's voice is cold, much like my fathers can be when he talks business, "I believe you wanted me to return a favour?"

"Yes. You and your small council owe me. I need that boy." _What boy? _The inner workings of Mordor were clearly more complex than I thought.

"Yes, but a slight problem. You asked for his grandson, but he has two," Bolg rebuts.

"Yes, I thought you might find that out," Pharom chuckles, unamused, before looking at me, "She doesn't know." It is not a question, but a statement. I look from Pharom to Bolg, _What?!_

"No, she does not, nor does she need to"

"Oh, I think she does."

"_No_." I step back, shocked and afraid. I've seen him yell, even seen compassion. But this, this is cold rage. He grabs my hand and pulls me into him. The world becomes muffled; all I see is his chest, his heart beating in my ear. He starts yelling, but Pharom cuts him off smoothly, "You see Ayisha, Bolg was never meant for Dol Guldur, I watched you leave the palace, I sent him to pick you up and bring you here. Now, he was going to pick up your brother, Luca, and bring him here too, but I have a _much _better plan."

"You _vile _creature," I spit, "you filthy lying heap of Warg shit." I turn from Bolg, rage bubbling over me. I snarl at him, like an animal. I try to lunge at him, but Bolg holds me back. "My, my, you are quite different to your mother aren't you? You are your father's daughter," Pharom chides, "you will fit the part to a tee." I feel myself lose control of my actions. I try in vain to struggle, but it's like I'm watching myself move. I feel myself break away from Bolg and walk to Pharom. He looks like he is the puppeteer and I the puppet, his hand holding the non-existent strings. "Now listen here. I'm going to disguise Bolg and some of his small council as elves and _you_, little one, are going to lead them into Greenwood. Your family will rejoice, and will accept your new 'friends'. They will then take little Luca and you, and return here, where I can finally come back to full power," he sneers, "of course, I only need the Stoneblessed one, so you can go back to being his plaything. But don't worry, you have no say in it, so you aren't to blame." He pats my head like a child and I feel myself regain control of my body. "Fuck you."

"You would, wouldn't you, _half-breed_," Pharom retorts. I walk back to Bolg of my own will and feel tears cascade down my cheeks. "Is it true?" He doesn't reply, but the pain in his eyes tells me everything. I look away, emotions churning. Anger, sadness, betrayal, hate, all swimming in front of my eyes. I follow him out of the fortress and feel an itch cover my body. I try to look up at Bolg, but have to force my gaze; Pharom has his grip on me, it's simply not as tight.

We walk in silence, him leading me, myself trailing like a true slave, but at this point, I don't care. I trusted him, even cared for him, and he hurt me. The tears had long since stopped, but one can only cry so much before crying loses its meaning. _What's the use? He was using me, that's all. _He opens the door and we shuffle inside. He doesn't make eye contact with me, instead, orders Archie, the drink-pourer, to organise his evening meal. "You may do as you please," he says to me with his back turned, "and then you will serve me my meal." I glare at the back of his head as he walks off. I run my fingers through my hair, before turning around and walking back out of the door, turning sharply to the left. Arcus would understand. I open the door, the stables are empty, all bar Gingiberi. She is asleep, so I turn around to walk back out. "I am already awake Ayisha," she grumbles, "you have been crying." I sigh in defeat and turn around.

"It's nothing," I say quietly. If the stableboy were to hear me, he would go to Bolg straight away, and accuse me of insanity, "Just what happened today." Once I start, I cannot stop; I tell her everything, eventually sitting beside her. "I just don't know what to do, I can't lose my brother, I can't."

"Do not cry, Bolg will find a way around it, he always does. He has kept you safe, hasn't he?"

"Yes, but I just feel so…" I trail off, shaking my head. She nods her great head. This is the most we had talked, and she wasn't as bad as I had feared. "Thankyou Gingiberi. You have really helped," I say, brushing hay off of myself. I head out of the door and prepare to serve Bolg, although I can't help but feel sour towards him.

I walk into the dining room, tray in one hand, jug of Ambor, their liquor, in the other. He is already there, waiting. "I apologise, Master Bolg. I was held up in the stables," I place the tray in front of him and fill his mug. His head snaps up, "Held up?"

"Yes, Master Bolg," I can't help but sound cold, "talking." I stand to the side and watch him eat. "Are you hungry, little jinx?"

"Do not worry Master Bolg, I will eat with the other slaves, sleep with them too. There is no reason for you to worry." I watch grimly as his face contorts in rage. "No need to _worry?" _he hisses, "pray tell, Ayisha, why should I _not worry, _as you put it?" _well, there's one foot in the grave, may as well dig the hole a little deeper…_

* * *

><p><strong>Bolg POV<strong>

"If you insist Master. I am merely a slave, Master," she says, "I am to eat, work, and rest with the others. After all, I have not been in your possession for long, why should I get better treatment than say Rosalin, who has surely been a better slave than I?"

I bristle, and she knows it too. She steps back, but not in fear. The way her eyes waver, her shoulders slump, _she is hurt. _I know I shouldn't take the bait, but I do anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Ayisha POV<strong>

"Why?" he roars now, standing up, "who are _you_ to question _me_? You are my property, I will do as I wish!" I am not fazed, Gingiberi told me not to antagonise him, but I never was one for advice. _Worse comes to worse, _I think bitterly, _he'll kill me in rage and Luca won't die…_ I watch him move over and I feel him grab my throat, lifting me off the ground. "A slave should know to never question their master. You will be punished, in one way of another," he squeezes my throat, and I clutch at his hands.

"You knew he wanted my brother," I wheeze, "yet you let me trust you, love you. You are worse than Pharom ever has been." He drops me in shock, rage leaving his expression, "go."

"Yes Master," I whisper, before bowing and leaving. The other slaves look at me, well, at the bruises on my neck, but I simply ignore them. They whisper, but it's simply a mumble. I see Rosalin bounding up. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I say, before changing the subject, "do you mind if I stay with you tonight?"

"Sure, but I heard what he said, you're going to be punished," she says sympathetically. We walk through to the back of the house. We stop at the last door on the left. She opens it and walks in, there are two small bunks and a desk, covered in a couple of little 'trinkets' from friends, she explained. I see a small puzzle box, a copper ring and a small, worn doll. "That is mine. From home," she says fondly. I nod in reply.

After a few hours, another young woman, with black curls and brown eyes, opens the door, "Ayisha?"

"She's in here Morwen," Rosalin says politely.

"Oh!" she looks at me with pity. That's the last thing I want or need. "_He_ wants me, doesn't he?" she nods. I stand up and wave to Rosalin, she simply mouths 'you'll be fine." Morwen walks me to his a room a have never seen before, "this is his… study chamber, you could call it. He says for you to go in straight away." She leaves me to walk in and face him. _Alone…_

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_Wooaaah! I can't even right now! _

_~tjlockwood_


End file.
